


Something in the Water

by J (j_writes)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-27
Updated: 2010-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I hear LA's where people move when they're having an existential crisis."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> fandom tropes meme - written for Delphinapterus.

The first thing Brian said to his new neighbor was "Speaking as a music lover, you need to cut it the fuck out with the drums, or I'm going to put your head through your kit," while the guy was still opening the door.

The second thing he said was "...Bob?"

"Come to welcome me to the neighborhood?" Bob asked dryly.

"I don't," Brian said, "I'm not," he glanced back over his shoulder at the street. "What?" he finally managed.

"It's no wonder you've been appointed welcoming committee, with that natural charm and eloquence," Bob said, leaning against the doorframe. "But I'm sorry to tell you, the lady on the other side of me already stopped by, and brought me cookies. You're going to have to step up your game if you want to hang onto the title for much longer."

" _Bob_ ," Brian said sharply in that manager tone that had always worked on everyone _but_ Bob.

" _Brian_ ," Bob replied, and pushed the door open, then disappeared into the kitchen. "Just made coffee," he called back, "want some?"

Brian shook his head and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The living room was empty but for a couch and Bob's kit, and a stack of boxes in the corner, still taped shut. "Only unpacking the essentials, I see," Brian said as he followed Bob into the kitchen.

Bob looked up from the coffee and shrugged. "Haven't needed anything yet," he said.

"Yeah, because you've been drumming day and night," Brian griped, but he took the mug that Bob offered him.

Bob didn't even bother looking repentant. "Don't need to worry about saving my wrists anymore," he said, and Brian winced.

"What are you doing here?" he asked tiredly, leaning back against the counter.

"I hear LA's where people move when they're having an existential crisis," Bob told him.

Brian made a face at him. "I mean _here_ ," he said, waving at the empty house. "You move in next door to me, and you don't even tell me you're here? You don't think that's a little creepy?"

"I think it's a lot creepy," Bob said. He picked up a plate from the table and held it out. "Cookie?"

Brian sighed. "You're infuriating," he told him, and took a cookie off the plate.

"I know." Bob grinned. He boosted himself onto the counter and sat there with a cookie in one hand, his coffee in the other. He enjoyed both quietly for a moment or two, then looked at Brian, no longer smiling. "I just didn't want to go back to Chicago," he said.

"I get that," Brian agreed, looking out the window at his own house.

"It wasn't intentional, you know," Bob said. "I was looking for places around here, and I thought this one looked..." he shrugged. "It looked like somewhere I'd want to stay, you know? For a while." He looked out the window too. "It looked like your place."

"Wonder why," Brian said, reaching for another cookie, and Bob gave a half-smile.

"I did up the contracts online," he said, "I'd forgotten your address, and I didn't even realize until - " he cut himself off and shrugged. "By the time I showed up here with all my stuff, I figured it _was_ too creepy."

"So you were just, what? Going to stay here and leave again without me ever knowing you were here?" He felt angrier than he had any right to, jumpy, his fingers curling by his sides as he watched Bob contemplate his coffee cup.

"I don't know," Bob said honestly. He tapped his feet against the counter in a rhythm Brian maybe should have recognized, but didn't.

Brian reached for another cookie to give his hands something to do other than grab Bob and fucking _shake_ him. "Kind of a dick move," he said, and Bob's eyes narrowed.

"Right, I'm the one making dick moves," Bob said. "You're the one who _left_."

Brian's head snapped up. "We're doing this?" he demanded, and Bob deflated a little.

"No," he said, sounding tired. "We're not." He bit into his cookie, swallowed some coffee. Brian watched him, feeling tension flickering through his whole body, coiling in his muscles. When Bob set his mug down onto the counter, his hand was shaking.

"What's - " Brian started to ask, and when Bob looked up at him and met his eyes, he realized with a jolt that he wasn't the only one feeling like he'd just been plugged into an entire field of power lines. " _Fuck_ ," he breathed out. "I don't..." He took a small step closer. "Bob?"

"I'm not..." Bob said, his voice a little uncertain, and his breath started coming in these quick little gasps that Brian recognized all too well. He felt his whole body responding, sudden and overwhelming, and maybe it was because it had been way too long since they'd done this, maybe it was just the accumulation of months of frustration and anger and _missing_ things, but he was pushing off the table, crossing the room, fitting himself into the space between Bob's legs.

"I just," he said, pushing Bob back against the cabinets, "I have to," and Bob didn't even let him finish getting the words out before he was leaning down, grabbing the back of Brian's neck, and tipping his face up to kiss him so intensely they were both gasping for breath when he pulled back. They stayed like that for a long while, one of Bob's legs hooking around Brian, holding him still, his unshaven face scraping across Brian's skin as he sucked and bit at his neck, his lips, the space below his ears, until Brian couldn't take it anymore and was dragging Bob's pants open, saying, "Fuck, I'm - I can't - " and leaning down to take Bob in his mouth without even getting his pants down. Bob let out this broken moan, his fingers sinking into Brian's hair, and Brian hollowed his cheeks around him, sucking hard, waiting for the moment when Bob pushed down against his head, making him take his cock deeper.

His hips jerked against the counter when he came, head tipped back against the cabinets, cursing incoherently, and Brian swallowed around him before pulling off, dropping to his knees right there on the floor and tugging at his own pants.

"Hey," Bob said, sliding off the counter and landing heavily beside him, "hey, I'm not -" and he joined Brian on the floor, their hands tangling together around his cock.

"Not what, Bryar?" Brian asked, "not that kind of a guy?" and then he lost all ability to form actual words when Bob leaned down and touched his mouth to the head of his cock. He lasted almost no time at all, and it was utterly satisfying for about a minute and a half while he caught his breath, and then he looked up at Bob again, saw his eyes dark and wanting, and realized that coming had barely even taken the edge off.

" _Fuck_ ," he hissed out, and let Bob drag him to his feet, pull him back towards the bedroom. "I have - " he said, waving a hand, "there's a bed..." and Brian managed to let out a laugh.

"Oh, you got _that_ set up, at least," he said, and then he stopped mocking, because he was horizontal, with Bob pressing down on top of him, and it was one of the best things that had ever happened. "Your priorities are the _greatest_ ," he said with feeling, and grabbed Bob's hips, dragging him down until their cocks were sliding together just right to make Bob's breathing go erratic and his arms shake as he held himself up.

It was hours later - hours of desperate fucking punctuated by quick bursts of napping - when Brian opened his eyes to discover that it was the middle of the night, and he could breathe again. The wired feeling had drained out of him, leaving him feeling exhausted and fucked out, and no longer like he was going to snap if he didn't fight Bob, or fuck him, or both. "Bob," he whispered into the darkness, and nudged Bob until he rolled over, grumbling.

"Fuck, I need water," Bob said, muffled into the pillow, and Brian smoothed a hand over his back, saying "Yeah," and rolling over to head for the kitchen.

When he settled back into bed, passing one of the glasses in his hands to Bob, he was smirking, and handed over a tiny folded piece of paper. "Did you read this?" he asked.

Bob looked confused, and shook his head. He unfolded it, read the scribbled note on it, and his cheeks went bright red. "Oh," he said. " _Shit_."

Brian started laughing. "Guess your neighbor on the other side wanted to give you one hell of a welcome."

"Like I said," Bob told him, looking torn between laughing hysterically and crawling under the covers, never to be seen again. "You're going to have to step up your game."

"I don't know if you noticed," Brian said, "but I'm pretty sure _I_ was the one sucking your cock, there."

Bob looked him over and smirked. "Oh," he said, "I noticed."

Brian was smiling as he settled back down against the pillows. "You're still a giant creep," he said, voice muffled in the sheets, and he listened to Bob curl up again next to him.

"Mmmhm," Bob agreed. "And you're still kind of a dick."

"As long as we're clear on the important things," Brian said dryly. He yawned, then waved at the door. "I can go," he offered. "If you want."

Bob made a grumbling noise and shook his head. "I hear the appropriate way to greet new neighbors is with baked goods," he said. "You owe me breakfast."

"Bullshit, I do," Brian said.

"Cookies for breakfast it is, then," Bob said, smirking at him, and Brian laughed.

"It's like you never want me to leave this bed again," he said.

"Maybe I don't," Bob said, and Brian couldn't tell if it was serious or mocking, because he punctuated it with a yawn. "Sleeping for a week and a half now, okay?" he asked, words half swallowed by the pillow, and Brian nodded, letting his eyes drift shut.

"Okay," he agreed. "See you next Tuesday."

There was a long pause, then Bob snorted and punched him in the arm.

Brian grinned and rolled over. "Hey, you could be halfway across the country right now," he reminded him. "You have no one but yourself to blame."

"Schechter?" Bob said, and let his arm fall heavily across Brian's waist.

"Hm?"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm asleep."

"Me too," Brian agreed, and about thirteen seconds later, it was the truth.


End file.
